Secret Agent Yard Sale
by Red Witch
Summary: Mallory tries to come up with new ways to bring money into her agency. All she succeeds in doing is finding new headaches.


**Once again Milton made toast out of the disclaimer saying that I don't own any Archer characters. Just more madness from my tiny little mind! **

**Secret Agent Yard Sale**

"Come in, come in!" Mallory shouted at her staff as they filed into her office. "We have a lot to discuss today and I want to get right to it!"

"What's this meeting about Mother?" Archer sighed as he poured himself a drink from Mallory's bar. "Hopefully it won't be long. I have stuff to do."

"More like whores to do," Mallory glared at her son.

"No, actual paperwork that is very, very important," Archer protested. "I have to update and reorganize my little black book!"

"So it is about whores," Mallory rolled her eyes.

"Not all of them are whores Mother," Archer snapped. "Okay some of them are whores. The others are just girls who like a good time."

"Unbelievable," Ray groaned.

"I can't believe it either," Archer said. "A lot happened during our little cocaine cartel phase. Some girls got married. Some got out of the business. Some got married and out of the business at the same time. Some moved out of state and didn't leave a forwarding address. One went to jail for selling drugs which is ironic. Apparently she was really good at it until she sold some to an undercover cop at her high school."

"High School? My God Sterling!" Mallory gasped.

"She was a teacher! Not a student! Give me **some **credit!" Archer protested. "I haven't dated a student since sixth grade and you know it!"

"Where would you meet a teacher that sold drugs?" Lana gave Archer a look. "I gotta hear this story."

"At the liquor store Lana. Where else do you meet horny teachers?" Archer gave her a look. "Duh! I mean obviously I didn't know she also sold drugs at the time. If I did I would have asked her for some pointers."

"If you are finished…"Mallory glared at her son.

"I mean I'm talking at least a quarter of my black book needs to be completely updated," Archer went on. "Not to mention rearranged because some of the women changed their names."

"Sterling…" Mallory warned.

"I may have to get a new black book and start from scratch," Archer kept going. "Which means I'll probably have to go to about three or four bookstores or office places so I can find right one."

"Why do you need to go to three or four places just to find an address book?" Cyril asked.

"For comparison shopping Cyril!" Archer barked. "A black book isn't like a calendar which you throw out like a condom when you're done with it. It is an important and sacred object. You have to pick the right one. Otherwise you'll be stuck with some old thing that will just get batted around and…"

"IF YOU ARE FINISHED CAN WE GET ON WITH THIS?" Mallory snapped. "God the meeting hasn't started yet and already you are trying my patience!"

"Can I try yours next?" Cheryl spoke up.

"Mallory maybe you'd better get started?" Lana sighed. "Before we all lose our patience! And what's left of our sanity."

"Well as you all have probably figured out by now…" Mallory sighed. "Our agency's funding is running a little low. The CIA isn't giving us as many missions as I thought they would and their funding has…let's just say gone down to a trickle. Apparently they have this belief that we can't manage our money."

"Gee I wonder where they got **that** idea?" Cyril asked.

"It's Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber's fault!" Mallory barked as she pointed to Pam and Cheryl. "When Mr. Slater saw what you did with the ten million dollars he ran back to his bosses and squealed like…Well I have so many for this."

"Pam at a cocaine barbecue," Mallory looked at her subordinates one by one. "Cheryl at a gas fire. Gillette when the sailors come in on shore leave. Krieger at a morgue. Cyril when he sees a new porn video. Lana when she finds something self-righteous to squawk about. And Sterling…Well we all remember Fourth of Ju-Luau."

"Oh yeah. We remember that! How could we forget?" The others groaned.

"I still can't eat pork chops with barbecue sauce to this day," Cyril added. "The look on that dead pig's eyes…"

"Like it knew what was happening to it from beyond the grave," Cheryl spoke up.

"As you can all imagine the CIA is not exactly in any hurry to give us any more money! Thank you very much you incompetent assholes!" Mallory growled.

"Well what happened to Popeye?" Archer asked. "You know the guy who ran the laundromat/bar/escort service downstairs? He was paying good money wasn't he?"

"Yes well…" Mallory sighed. "Remember the raid the CIA did while posing as the FBI?"

"The one where the office got all shot up, Brett got killed and we all got arrested?" Ray asked. "Vividly."

"It appears that the CIA also included Popeye in their raid in order to make it look good and they ran a background check," Mallory admitted. "Which turned up a few arrest warrants and long story short…Popeye has some…legal problems."

Flash to a jail cell somewhere.

Popeye glared out of the bars of his cell. "That bitch better pray I never get out of here," He growled.

Flash back to the office.

"So it looks like Popeye isn't coming back anytime soon," Mallory finished. "And as you can imagine it's kind of hard to find a paying tenant to lease out a false front for a spy agency."

"Basically we're almost broke," Cyril sighed.

"I wouldn't say that…"Mallory shrugged. "But we need to find new sources of revenue. That's why I called you in here."

"I don't see the problem," Archer scoffed. "We can just do some freelance missions on the side. Just do what you always do Mother. Call in a few bomb threats and get us hired to do security. It's simple as that."

"I'm afraid it's not," Mallory admitted. "Apparently somehow the CIA got wind of some of our less profitable ventures. Thank you very much Trudy Beekman and the State Department…So they made it clear that we aren't allowed to hire ourselves out to a third party. Conflict of interest and all that."

"They have a copy of that Bastard Chef tape don't they?" Lana groaned.

"That and a few other security camera footage I really don't think would be good for us if it got out," Mallory sighed.

"So the CIA isn't giving us any missions," Lana spoke up. "And we can't run any freelance missions…"

"Which means we're screwed," Pam finished. "Hey! I have an idea!"

"We're not running an escort service Pam!" Mallory snapped. "Since half of you give it away and the other half **can't** give it away that's not a viable cash option!"

"Oh well then never mind," Pam shrugged.

"I have an idea!" Krieger spoke up. "What if we supply weapons and office supplies to drug dealers? But this time we make sure they pay for them!"

"**This** time? What do you…?" Mallory did a double take.

"Don't ask…" Cyril groaned.

"I think for the sake of my sanity I won't," Mallory grumbled as she took a drink.

"Last time I blow a guy without getting the money up front," Pam added.

"I am definitely **not** going to ask now," Mallory winced as she took another drink. "Come on people I need ideas."

"How about some honeypot missions?" Ray spoke up.

"I am **not **sleeping with strange men for money," Lana huffed.

"Who said anything about **you **doing it?" Ray gave her a look.

"Technically I think that goes under freelance missions but we'll put that aside just in case," Mallory sighed.

"I'm amazed you haven't charged Cheryl more money for protection," Ray admitted.

"She tried but I've got an iron clad contract," Cheryl explained.

"That's probably the only other source of revenue we have," Mallory groaned. "Come on people! Think!"

"I have a suggestion!" Krieger spoke up.

"Anyone else have a suggestion?" Mallory pleaded. "**Anyone?** Oh all right Krieger what is your suggestion?"

"Genetically altered animals! As pets!" Krieger spoke up. "Think about it!"

"I am," Cyril moaned. "I'm thinking about all the possible lawsuits we could get!"

"I remember the messes of the Pigley and Goatleys," Mallory glared at Krieger. "Not to mention the irradiated animals! Forget it! The last thing I need is **another** flesh eating monster rampage in this office!"

"Oh," Krieger was disappointed. "Well then how about this idea? You know how tattoos are popular? What if we could do that with genetics? You know? Fuse animal traits into human beings to make…"

"What? Are you crazy? Stupid question! Unbelievable!" Everyone shouted. "Crazy…Forget it!"

"Hear me out! Haven't you ever wanted the beautiful spots of a cheetah as well as its running abilities?" Krieger asked. "Or zebra stripes! I hear stripes are in this season!"

"So are shoulder pads but that doesn't mean you should wear them!" Ray spoke up.

"That's basically the same thing you said before Krieger!" Archer barked.

"No, it's not," Krieger said. "One is giving human traits to animals and the other is giving animal traits to humans."

"Is there a difference?" Archer asked.

"If you have to ask…" Krieger sniffed.

"Okay Krieger you are not allowed to say **anything else** in this meeting," Mallory felt a headache coming on.

"But…" Krieger began.

"NO!" Mallory shouted.

"But I…" Krieger tried again.

"NO!" Everyone else shouted.

"You didn't have to yell…" Krieger sniffed. "I'm going to my lab now. Jerks!" He walked out crying.

"Great. We made our Hitler clone cry," Cyril groaned.

"So we did accomplish something today!" Cheryl said cheerfully.

"Someone…please come up with a plausible idea," Mallory groaned. "Before **I** cry!"

"Well…" Lana thought aloud. "Maybe Ron could help us?"

"Ron?" Mallory blinked.

"He is good at running a business," Lana shrugged. "Maybe he could give us some tips?"

"Seven dealerships is impressive," Archer admitted.

"The man knows how to make money," Ray pointed out. "You can't argue with that."

"He is kind of the closest thing we have to a financial consultant," Cyril agreed.

"It couldn't hurt to ask the guy," Pam said. "Especially since you two are now back together."

"Uhh…Yes I'll…Talk to Ron…later," Mallory fidgeted. "Yes. Later. I can ask him for some advice."

"You **are** back together right?" Ray asked folding his arms skeptically.

"Of course we are!" Mallory said vehemently. "I'll talk to him at dinner tonight. Yes we're having dinner tonight."

"I wonder why Ron hasn't called me yet?" Archer frowned.

"Why the hell would Ron call **you**?" Mallory frowned. "On second thought. Never mind. Okay I will ask Ron for some financial advice…later. When I see him. Let's move on and think up some other ideas."

"Like what? Have a yard sale?" Ray quipped.

"If there was anything in this dump outside of my office worth anything I'd have sold it long ago!" Mallory snapped.

"Hey wait a minute! We could sell more records!" Pam spoke up.

"Our office records?" Cyril blinked. "I don't think…"

"No Dumb Nuts! I mean Cheryl's records!" Pam pointed to Cheryl. "Just get her to be Cherlene again and make another album! The last one did great!"

"Only because an insane South American dictator bought most of them," Ray pointed out.

"With a bad check," Mallory groaned. "And the money from what didn't come from him is already gone. Besides that's no longer an option thanks to Cheryl's little arson spree on morning television!"

"Oh right," Pam realized. "I forgot about that."

"Me too," Cheryl said. "Forgot about what?"

"When you did an impersonation of Mrs. O'Leary's cow and set fire to a TV show and its host!" Mallory snapped. "Do you have any idea how many favors I had to call in so you wouldn't be locked up? You're just lucky the station manager decided not to press charges on you. Apparently they were going to fire the host because of ratings problems."

"So they got mad because I set fire to the guy before they did?" Cheryl asked. "And who's Cherlene again? Is she another temp?"

"I will not kill her," Mallory gritted her teeth. "I will **not** kill her. She's a billionaire. I will not kill her!"

"Kill who?" Cheryl asked. "Or is that whom?"

"Can someone else come up with an idea?" Mallory shouted. "Anyone!"

"Weeeellll…" Krieger poked his head back into the office.

"NO!" Everyone shouted. Krieger pouted and went back out.

"Anyone **else?**" Mallory pleaded.

"I know this sounds like an obvious question," Lana said. "But have you tried calling the CIA and asking for more missions Mallory?"

"You're right Lana. It is an obvious question!" Mallory snapped. "Why do you think I'm on the phone with them all the time? They keep giving me the same answers. 'We don't have anything for you'. 'Not sure you can be trusted.' 'What happened to the ten million we gave you'? 'Who set **what** on fire'? Blah, blah, blah!"

"What do you want from us Mallory?" Lana was frustrated. "If the CIA won't give us any extra missions and we're not allowed to do any freelance missions there's not much else we can do."

"I don't know I still think the honeypot missions are still a good bet," Archer spoke up. "I'll do the women obviously."

"And I will do the men," Ray spoke up.

"I'll do either one!" Pam spoke up. "I'm not picky."

"Great. I can always count on my staff to fall on their backs," Mallory sighed. "I suppose I should have known better by now than to rely on you lot to come up with any ideas. Especially since the majority of your brain cells are in your genitals!"

Mallory let out another sigh and took a drink. "I suppose the only upside of having a reduced staff is that I don't have to pay as many salaries as I did before. Still we are going to have to cut costs."

"We're going to have to end up bringing our own paper towels to work again aren't we?" Cyril groaned.

"That's a very good possibility," Mallory groaned. "And I also wanted an excuse to change my furrier. Now I have one."

"Again why do you need horseshoes?" Archer asked.

"What I really need are new agents," Mallory grumbled. "And possibly a new son!"


End file.
